


Bayberry Moon

by Talullah



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 15:36:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2197200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/pseuds/Talullah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elrond meets Imrahil twice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bayberry Moon

**Author's Note:**

> My deepest gratitude goes to weavinghugo who poked me to finish this fic when it was starting to slip from my mind and betaed it in record time with great care and acuity. Any remaining mistakes are solely mine.
> 
> "Delayed corpses breeding" is a verse from "Nada Fica" (Nothing Remains), a poem by Ricardo Reis (Fernando Pessoa). "Bayberry Moon" is from REM's "Find the River".
> 
> Prompts: fanfic100 prompt 039: taste.
> 
> [Disclaimer/Blanket Statement](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/profile)

**Gondor, 3019 Third Age, Solstice night**

"All is sadness." Elrond's voice itself dripped sadness, forming a puddle in the shadows around him. The murmurs of the party reached the upper ring of the city, providing a soft background for his words.

Imrahil was startled. He had walked as silently as he could, tried to breathe softly and had stood absolutely still for the last hour, watching Elrond watch the sky. He wondered for how long Elrond had known he was there. Probably since he had arrived.

"Yes," he agreed, after some moments, thinking on his own experience. Everything is transient, he realized long ago, and now wondered how could a man undergo constant loss for all the centuries of Arda as Elrond had. His own life sometimes seemed too long to bear.

Fresh laughter was heard nearby, bringing a smile to Imrahil's lips. It could be his daughter or some other lovely young maiden, ready for the long journey of life, ready to see her petals blossom, not caring to remember that Springs are not eternal and one day all flowers wilt.

"All is joy," Imrahil added, for it was true also. There was joy wherever one would look with the same eyes that saw the sadness.

Elrond remained silent, leaving up to Imrahil to decide if his words had been seen as foolish by one so old and wise.

Imrahil had seen late in the night the mysterious Lord of Imladris discreetly leaving the wedding party of his daughter and foster son as if the world weighted on his shoulders. This was a night of triumph for all he knew, the celebration of life, more than survival, of restoration of everything that was good and fair in the absence of fear. And it was Elrond that had given them their victory, who had raised and prepared their king and who had devised the ingenious and hopeless plan that had defeated their foe. That sadness about him baffled Imrahil and he had followed the living legend, out of concern, he said to himself, feeling ridiculous for his boyish admiration of the half-elf.

He knew, of course, that Elrond had lost his daughter to mortality. The mere thought of losing Lothíriel burned him and yet he knew that the time would come soon. He had seen her looking at the new Rohirrim King and he had seen, too, Éomer glancing back at her. Perhaps at this very moment the young man was jesting, trying to make her laugh, or inviting her for another dance. A brief shadow of jealousy and concern rippled through him, but he forced himself to let go. His daughter would be free and happy; he would ensure it. And hopefully it would be a long time before her death; hopefully that would be long after his own.

But not for Elrond. How terrible must it be for one who will not die, who is tied to this world to see his child lost forever? Imrahil could understand Elrond's grief, though he knew he was far from grasping his whole story.

The cruelty of human fate hit him in the face. "I imagine that for you elves, we are but delayed corpses breeding," he said, wondering how unpleasant his company would be for Elrond.

"No, not at all. Your ephemeral nature is touching, not repulsive." Elrond sat silently on the ledge, looking down on the city and thinking of his brother. Had Elros ever regretted his decision? Would Arwen regret hers? He had regretted his many times... and yet he felt that the other would have been as wrong.

Imrahil approached Elrond and sat by his side, raising his eyes to the dark sky. A faint indefinable scent hovered around the half-elf and Imrahil found himself obsessed with the imperative need of defining it.

"The clouds left for now," Elrond said despite the masses that hovered above them, swiftly advancing to cover the moon.

"I hope so," Imrahil replied at last. "Do you think that they will ever return?"

Elrond's lip twitched bitterly but the ironic chuckle was trapped in his lips. "There will always be... wickedness in this world. But this kind of absolute evil... I do not know, but I hope not."

A sigh, a slight sound of relief, escaped Imrahil's lips, making him feel once more boyish. He reminded himself that he was here for Elrond, not for himself. "And happiness? Joy? Can you see them?"

"I suppose so. It is all around us..." Elrond murmured.

"But not inside, is it?"

Elrond did not reply. This prince of men saw more than he should. He rose slowly and headed for the young tree.

"You are losing your daughter," he heard Imrahil say in that laconic way these southern men had. He felt a need for sarcasm in face of such an obvious statement, but Imrahil proceeded before he had even time to open his mouth.

"There is something else, though."

This had to stop. Imrahil's questioning was soft toned and he discerned no ill intentions in it but he had little will to delve into his problems with a stranger, when he avoided it even with his closest friends.

"I do not recall having appointed you my confidant, Price Imrahil." The coldness in his voice was unauthorised by the vehemence in his words.

He, Elrond Peredhel, son of legendary parents, brother of Tar-Minyatur, father of the Evenstar and Lord of Imladris had lost his temper over a kind, well meant question. He would not, however, apologise.

Imrahil had not known where that sudden intuition had come from, but it seemed that it had it the target. Fearing he had overstepped some line, he simply said, "I know loss too, I have known it," while he rose and stood for a moment before turning to walk away.

"So have I." Elrond's voice was low. "More times than I care to count," he added in a thread of voice. The man had done that. He did not want to break his reserve and let his anguish out, but it was so tempting to let the flood run its course and leave nothing but debris behind.

"I know." Imrahil said kindly, full of understanding.

'But how could he understand?' Elrond wondered. How could he possibly comprehend six millennia of pain and loss? Against his will he had to admit that there had been some good times. They seemed so short now, but at the time he felt that they would last forever. He doubted, however, that they could return, that there could at least be an emotional vacuum for him to slide into.

Imrahil stepped closer and waited, watching Elrond caress the sapling.

Elrond turned, but did not face Imrahil, choosing instead some distant point over his shoulder. "I suppose I am afraid."

"Of what?"

Elrond shook his head. He was afraid of going to Valinor, of meeting his wife. What kind of a man confesses to a stranger that he is reluctant in meeting his own wife after 500 years apart?

Slowly he circled the tree. The night was still dark but two clouds had parted forming a clearing of light, which shone now on Elrond's side. This light was cold and made his features look hard as if deeply engraved on stone. He looked old.

Imrahil stepped into the skirt of white pebbles and walked up at Elrond.

"Healer, warrior, wise one, many tales are told of you." He paused, trying to catch Elrond's eyes. "None of them speak of fear or cowardice."

He intended to praise Elrond, to make him see how great he was in the eyes of others, but his remark had hit another mark he could not fathom.

"You know not what you speak!" Elrond turned away angered.

"I do! I grew listening to the tales of bravery and wisdom and kindness of Elrond Half-elven. So much so that on occasions I wondered if there could be such a creature in this world."

"Well, there is not. There are stories told, yes, but they were glossed then and are now forgotten." Elrond tapped his foot impatiently.

Imrahil smiled at his anger. "O mighty Lord of Imladris, do you ignore that all of us have such stories? Do they diminish our accomplishments?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. It does not matter now. I simply wish them to be forgotten." Elrond walked out of the circle, looking lost. He looked back to Imrahil and then up to the clouded night sky and the yellowish moon. "Do you think one could live up there?"

"Why, Lord Elrond? Why would you want that?" Imrahil had reached the ledge and turned, sitting on the ground, his back leaning on the wall.

Elrond sat beside Imrahil, slowly. His clothes would be soiled but he cared little. Surprised, he had come to the conclusion that the man's company was more beneficial to him than loneliness.

"They say that Valinor is a wonderful, blessed place, where the elven folk find love and light." Imrahil tested the waters; he had already heard of Elrond's decision.

"Yes, that is said. But the elven folk have found other things there." Elrond left the pause prolong remembering the tales of other times.

"Why not stay then if you feel so little enthusiasm with the idea of going?" Imrahil proposed.

"I cannot." Elrond picked a pebble and let it fall into the ground.

"Not all elves are leaving. I hear that the Northern realm prospers..."

"Ah, the northern realm..." Elrond paused, looking for the words and the reasons. "No. You see, we are very different. They have been open to the world. Strange, it is. We Noldor are more known for our curiosity and amity towards other people, yet we have shut ourselves in our little protected realms and gave little to those around us."

The meaning of Elrond's words did not escape Imrahil. "Lothlórien. I have seen the Lady..."

"Yes, them too. You must understand, we did not close our doors entirely or intentionally. We never refused hospitality, at least in Imladris. But we did not reach out from our little islands. Our reluctance in mingling except in extreme cases had its costs."

"We are not prepared for this new age, for this changing world. We are like hothouse flowers with our placid beauty and grace, soon to be frosted and wilted by the vigorous age approaching. My people are tired. And so am I. Imladris was an oasis, but what held it together is no more," Elrond said, rolling unconsciously Vilya on his finger.

"I heard tales of Imladris's beauty. I am sure that it would be hard to leave behind a life's dream and your daughter... but this does not explain your lack of interest for Valinor. This weight on you... would it not be eased there, where you surely have many friends and, I believe, your wife?"

"My wife... Celebrían..." Time passed but Elrond added nothing to these three words.

The clouds had closed again on the moon and looked darker than ever. Far away thunder rolled. Rain was coming soon. 'Good,' Elrond thought. 'This land will need much washing for a long time. Yet life is already trying to seep its green fingers from under the earth and into the sun.'

"Maybe we should go inside before the rain catches us," he said with little enthusiasm.

Neither of them moved. The warm summer rain started falling in thick drops.

"I like the rain." Imrahil offered at last.

Thunder was rolling closer now.

"So do I." Elrond reflected on the many childlike innocent pleasures he had refused himself since Celebrían had sailed. Was he punishing himself for his failure? His failure in healing Celebrían, she who had healed him once?

They rested in silence waiting for the warm rain. The first drops were like a blessing falling from the sky. They sat still and silent eagerly absorbing the night.

The storm was now above them and the rain was no longer pleasant and purifying. Now it was violent and fell as hard as swarm of accusations on their heads.

Elrond broke the meditative silence that had settled upon them. "Maybe we should go inside," he repeated.

Once more Imrahil was reluctant. "Do you realize that we look more like two soaked rags rather than two lords?"

Chuckling, Elrond replied, "Yes, I do. But we can avoid company. Let us go around to the east side. My room is on the ground floor and has an outer door."

Still reluctant, Imrahil rose, accepting Elrond's hand.

They started running and stopped abruptly at Elrond's doors, laughing like boys up to mischief.

Between laughs Imrahil asked, "Why were we running? It makes no sense."

Elrond laughed, too. It felt marvellous to be nonsensical. He pushed his doors but they did not yield. They shook as he pushed them harder but did not open.

He looked at Imrahil, slightly contrite. "It looks like we are locked outside."

Imrahil laughed as he looked at himself and Elrond.

The Prince of Dol-Amroth had not stricken Elrond as the type who laughs often or too hard, but then again neither was he, at least not after Celebrían's ordeal. The sad thought broke his laughter.

"Shall we go around the back, then," he asked.

"Maybe," Imrahil answered cryptically. The rain kept pouring, but it had slowed some and as the clouds were drained into the earth, new clearings formed in the cloud mantle and the moon shone through.

Imrahil grinned and winked as he fumbled through his soaked robes, seeking his pockets.

He extracted from them a small knife and carefully introduced it between the two panels of the door. He slid the knife up and pushed the doors open. Grinning smugly, he stepped aside and bowed courteously, extracting another laugh from Elrond. They entered the room quickly and shut the doors behind them.

"Your skills, though admirable are more easily found in a road thief than in a prince." Elrond raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Well, I was a boy once," Imrahil said with an impish grin.

Elrond smiled sadly. He had been a boy once too, so long ago. He had been a terrified boy, an orphaned boy and a very lonely boy, excepting for his brother's company, of course. His boyhood had dawned so quickly. He was not sure that had been a blessing or a curse.

Imrahil saw the sadness returning to his eyes and tried to shoo it before it settled in. His comment had been spontaneous, but then he remembered the tales. It was very hard not to judge Elrond's parents in an ill light, despite their deeds. He would never have left his children.

Trying to jest and clear the air he said, "I know that elves do not catch colds, but I am no elf. Do you have something to drink around here?"

"Yes, I have something you might like." The smile returned briefly to Elrond's eyes as he poured some miruvor for Imrahil and himself.

Imrahil was still standing, dripping near the fireplace. Elrond gestured for him to sit but he nodded. "No thank you. I would ruin our new king's furniture and besides I should be on my way as it is quite late."

"Are you tired of this monotonous company?" Elrond asked tentatively, though he tried to sound detached. For some strange reason the thought of being alone again pained him.

"Not at all, but I do not wish to impose and I am wet," Imrahil replied.

"I will light the fire. If you are not sleepy you are welcome to stay for a bit longer. I can lend you something drier," Elrond offered.

"Thank you."

Elrond opened his bathroom and came back with towels in his hand. He extended them to Imrahil who started drying his face, hair and hands, while Elrond dug through his clothes, trying to find something that would suit Imrahil. They had similar physiques, but he felt his elaborate clothes would not suit the man well.

When he found a comfortable raw silk robe, not overly embroidered, he handed it to Imrahil, who stood there looking at him. Mistaking his hesitation with embarrassment Elrond said, "You can use the bathroom to change."

"Thank you." Imrahil sounded almost neutral, but Elrond wondered if there was a note of some feeling in his voice. He thought he had heard the faintest disappointment but the thought was ridiculous.

When Imrahil returned a few minutes later, Elrond was still drying himself and had just taken his leggings off. Naked as in the day he was born, he reached hastily for his dry clothes. The man made him feel naked. He was naked, of course, but there was something about that insistent look upon him...

Imrahil let out a hearty laugh. "Who would have thought that the mighty Lord of Imladris behaved like a shy maiden."

Elrond frowned but forced himself to relax. He dropped the wet clothes still in his hands and placed his dry robe on the bedpost. He took the towel and tried to take some of the water off his hair. His movements were slow and deliberate. He was no maiden and Imrahil's comparison had irritated him. The prince of men did not avert his eyes from his body, holding his silent challenge.

Elrond finally covered himself with his robe. The soothing silence they had shared had been replaced with a heavy mist of ambiguity. He gestured for the comfortable chairs for his guest to sit and asked, "How did you like the miruvor?"

"So that is what it was... It is very good, unlike any drink I have tasted before. Smoother than our wines... and much warmer," Imrahil said, still feeling the strange yet wonderful taste in his mouth.

Sinking in the chair without a word Elrond stared absently at the fire, forgetting to thank Imrahil's compliment.

Imrahil followed his example. The night would reach its end soon and sleep started to claim him, though he had no intention of being an easy prey. He watched Elrond for some time. The wine had made his eyelids heavier and his knees would probably play with him if he had to use them now. He hoped his voice was more loyal. "The world seems to rest on your shoulders."

Elrond frowned. "Why did you follow me?" he asked at length.

"I am not sure. I wanted to meet the legendary Elrond Peredhel, of course. You have been in my boyhood dreams. But you looked so sad, so lonely..."

"So you pity me?" Elrond sounded more curious than irked.

"No, not pity. Why would I? But I felt more than boyish admiration and curiosity, yes." Imrahil's was slow and Elrond wondered if the man would fall asleep in his room. He was curious about this man. It had been a long time since he had last been curious.

"Concern, if it makes any sense to feel such a thing for a stranger," Imrahil added. His eyes were closed and his features relaxed. He was handsome, Elrond thought. Handsome and frail. No, he was all but frail. He was ephemeral as all humans, ephemeral and naïve, despite his knowledge of the ways of the world.

What else beyond naïveté would have given him the perspicacity to read so deep inside him and to have the nerve to approach him in such a way? Elrond wondered when in that night he had started desiring the man. Long before letting him see his naked body, that he knew. Perhaps this desire came from even before that night.

He had challenged him to look and Imrahil had faced the challenge admirably, but what his beneath his impassable face? He felt disloyal to his wife for wanting someone again. Celebrían. Who was she now? Were all the powers of Valinor enough to heal her?

He feared he would find upon his arrival the same terrified, hateful woman who had taken over his dear wife. He could understand that Celebrían would feel like that, but he so wished that she could be restored to her former self. And he felt selfish as this desire was as much to his benefit as for hers.

Staring absently into the fire he barely noticed when Imrahil's head fell forward suddenly and he woke looking slightly confused. Imrahil apologised, taking Elrond from his reverie. "Please forgive my human weakness."

Smiling indulgently Elrond replied "Sleep is not a weakness; and it would be a minor flaw if it was."

"I should go now. I apologise for having been such dull company." Imrahil could not contain a discreet yawn.

Smiling Elrond replied, "Not at all. Your company was quite refreshing and I thank you for it."

"I shall change into my clothes," Imrahil said, lethargic.

"At this hour you will find none in the halls and corridors of this house and your clothes are still wet. If you insist on leaving there is no need to put on cold, wet clothes. Please take the robe," Elrond insisted, regretting to see the man go.

"Thank you." Imrahil started rising from his chair slowly as an old man, not the proud warrior and prince that he was.

Rising promptly to help the man, Elrond found himself face to face with him and much closer than he intended. Imrahil was staring directly into his eyes. After a moment he averted his own and made way for the man to pass. He had no desire to create an awkward situation that could even become a diplomatic incident. Imrahil however, did not move for the door, but stepped forward, resuming to their positions.

As he glanced at his feet, trying to make the right decision quickly, Elrond detected a most conspicuous protuberance in the front of Imrahil's robes.

His heart raced in his chest and his mouth dried with desire. The man wobbled and moved a hand, purposelessly, chuckling as he saw that Elrond's robe was as inflated as his own. Maybe in another day when he felt less sleepy he would have not done any of this, but the moment possessed an oneiric quality. His movements took mere seconds but he felt them as if they were dragged in the sandy shores of time. He felt his lips parting, falling upon Elrond's, still closed. His hands with will of their own closed on Elrond's buttocks and would have dragged him forward had not Elrond anticipated and rubbed his hardened penis against his so firmly it hurt, while plunging his tongue into Imrahil's mouth.

Elrond grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled it back so as to force him to open his mouth wider. Imrahil had not suspected that the sad, lonely Lord of Imladris could still have this fire in him.

Elrond parted and they gasped staring at each other. Imrahil advanced a leg between Elrond's and pushed him to the sofa, lying with all his weight on top of him, making a zealous point of retribution for Elrond's ferocious kiss. Imrahil's robe had opened slightly as they moved and so had Elrond's, allowing him to feel warm skin crushed against his. He rose slightly and before he could take any action, Elrond pulled the sash that still held his robe and grasped firmly his turgid penis, massaging it vigorously as Imrahil stared in awe down the gap between their bodies.

Elrond loosened his grip and flattened his hand. At each move he let his fingers down further, caressing Imrahil's testicles until he begged in an uncertain voice, "Please," against Elrond's cheek.

Elrond turned his head in a flash and bit the corner of Imrahil's lips. "Please what, o Prince of men?"

Imrahil let out a shuddering sigh as Elrond's thumb trailed circles firmly but carefully on his swollen glans. Elrond insisted on his question, whispering on Imrahil's ear "Have you lost your words?"

He let his tongue dive inside Imrahil's ear who bucked into his hand, collapsing on top of him, crushing his hand as he moved frantically a few more times, before ejaculating on his abdomen.

He lay heavy, panting on top of Elrond, who carefully extracted his hand from between them. He found it hard to avoid rubbing his erection onto Imrahil's flaccid now penis, but need overwhelmed his care for the man's sensibility.

In any case he was buried by the other's weight and could not make any movements rough enough to hurt Imrahil or to bring himself to orgasm.

After a few moments and some breath catching, Imrahil lifted his head from Elrond's shoulder and started kissing him, at first easily and tenderly, but becoming more and more eager as his lips travelled onto Elrond's and he felt his penis swell once more.

Elrond put his hands in Imrahil's shoulders and pushed him back, to the man's surprise and concern. His confusion quickly dissipated as Elrond pushed him further and squirmed from under him, his face flushed and his breath ragged. He dropped his robe on the floor as he stood and took himself in hand and stroked it widely, slowly. As Imrahil sat, Elrond straddled him and started rubbing his glans against Imrahil's sending sparks through their bodies. Elrond bit Imrahil's lower lip and pulled it up, until he moaned in protest or delight, Elrond was not sure which.

Disentangling himself from Imrahil's arm, Elrond stood in front of him. His erection had become almost painful and his glans was purple instead of the usual dark rosy shade while pre-ejaculate dripped generously. White pearls still shone on his flat abdomen and he saw Imrahil licking his upper lip as he focused them.

Slowly Imrahil's eyes glided over Elrond's body once more, taking each detail visible in the dim light and meeting with Elrond's gaze at his engorged throbbing genitals.

He let his palms run up Elrond's thighs until they were closed upon his buttocks and drew him toward himself. Letting Elrond's glans brush his semi-parted lips, he moved his head slowly, eyes closed, inhaling all of Elrond's musky scent. Bayberry. That was the elusive scent he had smelled, he thought as he opened his lips wider and reached out his tongue, tracing a tortuous path on the soft wet skin. Elrond held his breath moving imperceptibly forward as Imrahil let him into his mouth, tasting the rich flavours offered.

As he drew back, he heard a sound of disappointment escaping Elrond's lips. Smiling, he proceeded to his explorations, first by burying his nose in the fragrant patch of dark curly hair, feeling the hot penis brushing his face and ear, but ignoring it. Then he lowered his head and once more let his tongue free to explore, to taste Elrond's scrotum. A small gasp encouraged him to continue. Grasping harder at Elrond's buttocks he fully opened his mouth and covered Elrond's left testicle with his tongue, extracting a guttural sound from Elrond when he delicately sucked it whole into his mouth. Feeling wicked, Imrahil drew back and blew softly over the warmed skin. In consequence Elrond grasped his shoulders hard, sinking his fingers deep into the flesh. Imrahil was pleased. He decided to have mercy and let the tip of his tongue roam up and down Elrond's erect penis, followed by hungry lips and finally taking him in his mouth as far as he could, almost choking. Remembering Elrond's actions, he sucked as hard as he could, with increasing speed, only to be rewarded with more moans. His left hand had left Elrond's buttocks and now caressed the contracted testicles, while his right hand dived repeatedly onto Elrond's cleft, drawing nearer and nearer to his anus.

All of a sudden Elrond pushed him back. "Enough!" he said, panting. In the dim light Imrahil could see the sheen of sweat on his forehead and his upper lip. He had a chance to taste it as Elrond kissed him violently, placing his hands on Imrahil's head firmly. Elrond stood straight still with his hands on Imrahil's face and ordered in a hushed voice, "On the floor." As Imrahil hesitated he insisted, "Now!"

Imrahil obeyed, his stomach clenching at the thought that he had awakened something dark inside Elrond. That spark in his eyes... He slipped from the sofa to his knee, then sat, and finally lay on his side under Elrond's commanding hands. Elrond settled behind him, his hair partially covering Imrahil's shoulder, his throbbing, slick erection nested between his buttocks. Involuntarily Imrahil tensed. He had never been taken this way and though he desired Elrond intensely some apprehension was unavoidable.

Elrond rubbed softly against Imrahil and let his arm envelop the man. Burying his face in the other's hair, he caressed his face with this fingertips, feeling once more that harshness of shaved skin that had almost undone him before when it had scratched against his genitals. Nuzzling the man's hair, he let his hand trail from the jaw to the neck, and then to a nipple, making Imrahil buck against Elrond's scorching erection. Elrond's hand continued its sweet torment, wandering over tense muscles, his finger leisurely drawing spirals around and into Imrahil's navel, letting his knuckles brush the swollen penis.

Imrahil's breathing was heavy and his hand ran to his groin. Elrond stopped him, however. Gently but firmly he removed the offensive hand and kept it trapped in his as he rose on an elbow and drove a searching gaze through the room. On Imrahil's chair was one of the items he needed.

He sat up and reached for the pillow and then stuffed it under Imrahil's hips. As for something lubricating, he did not see a thing in reach that he could use. Letting a soft curse slip he rose swiftly and headed into the bathroom searching for some oil, feeling Imrahil's gaze burning his back.

In the bathroom he found himself staring at the dark mirror, at his flushed skin and shinny eyes. His hand slipped down to his groin for a brief moment as he whispered to his image, "You must be out of your mind." In that moment his eyes caught sight of what he wanted: a phial of oil. Not waiting for a second thought, he grabbed it, and returned to the room where Imrahil lay staring expectantly over his shoulder to the bathroom door. Elrond drew nearer and stood at Imrahil's feet. Not saying a word, he gently tapped wit his foot the man's leg signalling for him to spread his legs.

In a gracious swift movement he knelt between the man's legs and lay on top of him as he carefully deposited the oil by their side. Imrahil had buried his face in his arms and kept agitating beneath him. Elrond pulled his hair to the side and carefully licked the rim of the man's ear, not venturing further after that initial display of sensibility. Removing more hair, he continued his caresses in the back of Imrahil's neck, nibbling where marks would not be seen in the next day. Imrahil was more restless and tried to create friction against the pillow, which consequently excited him even more. He let his whole weight on top of Imrahil, settling him as he whispered, "Shh, stop moving."

Imrahil mumbled in protest, but had no choice as Elrond kept still and heavy on top of him.

Elrond then proceeded nibbling down his back, biting harder at the smallest sign of movement, heading slowly towards Imrahil's buttocks. The sight of the taut round muscles was irresistible: Elrond placed his hands on each one and massaged them, feeling, teasing. He slid his hands to the front of Imrahil's hips and pulled them up, leaning then to passionately bite the delightfully firm muscle. Imrahil moaned and pushed back. Elrond was pleased. With his hands, he kept Imrahil in place and returned to his pleasurable task, lapping at he place where the mark of the teeth still showed and trailing lower and lower, down the side of Imrahil's hip, kissing and nibbling until he reached the line where the buttock met the thigh. He traced it with his tongue a couple of times and when Imrahil least expected it, he let his tongue dive into the man's anus. Imrahil gasped and bucked forward trying to escape the unusual feeling. Chuckling, Elrond pulled him back up. "Stay still," he ordered returning to his task. He tasted the man's cleft and let it wander free enjoying the subtle changes of taste from nearly uncharacteristic to a more and more intense flavour of rain, sweat and lust.

Imrahil tensed as the tongue wetted more and more of him approaching his anus, but Elrond skipped it, against his expectations, and continued his playful tasting further down to his perineum. Imrahil did not clench when he returned to his anus, carefully parting the dark hair surrounding it with is tongue. Encouraged by the increase in Imrahil's breathing, he ventured his tongue into the centre of the puckered flesh and pushed it in. He could have smiled at Imrahil's enthusiastic response, but he was too occupied extracting more moans from the man. Suddenly he stopped and moved forward, reaching his hand for the oil. In a fragment of a second, he lubricated his penis and positioned it closer to Imrahil, guiding it with his hand, teasing, delaying penetration while Imrahil glanced back, a mist of worry crossing his face. Elrond softly patted his buttock and smiled while applying some pressure. Imrahil smiled back and returned the nudge. Elrond caressed the man's anus this way with his glans going further at each time, watching in awe as Imrahil gave himself in trust, not clenching anymore.

He finally penetrated Imrahil completely, falling on his back. Imrahil let out a guttural moan that made Elrond think he was in pain for a few seconds, but Imrahil started moving beneath in, pushing back. Elrond inhaled deeply the warm scent of man and rain that exuded from Imrahil's hair, and started to move rather quickly. He had drawn this for too long and was now truly aching for release, for a brutal orgasm inside Imrahil.

Imrahil too had been drawn near his limit. With Elrond now moving frantically inside his rectum, and hitting mercilessly his prostate, he soon found release, but all too different from anything he had experienced before. The familiar spasms that shook him to his soul were not accompanied by the burning feeling of the passage of semen in his urethra. He tried to reach his hand below, as he felt himself still erect, but he could not with Elrond moving with his full weight on top of him. He completely forgot about that as the second orgasm hit him, this time accompanied by ejaculation but not as intense as the first. Elrond too went over the brim. They lay on the floor, panting, not moving an inch and finally fell asleep, as the first rays of dawn ventured through the curtains.

Some hours later, Imrahil woke up to the noises of the house. He could feel a wet sticky mess beneath him but it was largely offset by the pleasure of feeling Elrond's soft breathing on his face. Even not being able to take a deep breath, it felt good.

Elrond's hair partially covered his face and the now dry strands tickled his nose. Carefully he tried to remove his hand from under Elrond's to draw some hair back but Elrond started waking.

Imrahil could feel the rhythm of his breathing changing, but he would not move and acknowledge that a new day had already caught up with them. Finally when steps began being heard nearer to his rooms he let out a long low sigh and rolled off Imrahil.

"I suppose no night lasts forever, does it?" he said, not expecting an answer.

Imrahil slowly moved, sitting up and looking around for his clothes. They looked drier but crumpled. He would be a fine sight if he did not move before the rest of the house was up.

Elrond lay on his back on the rug, staring at him, enjoying for the first time a clear view of the man's body. A familiar tingling agitated his groin but he willed it to fade.

Imrahil, now almost dressed, looked at him. "I must leave now."

Elrond nodded, but Imrahil did not move, so he rose and stood face to face to him. "Will I see you later?" he asked. This was the most inadequate thing a married man could do with his three children in the house, but he needed Imrahil. This morning he had felt more alive than on any other day on the last 500 years. There was a chance that Imrahil felt too this was folly and wanted it to stop, but Imrahil nodded with that impish grin of his and left without further word.

That night they met again, and in the next one too, and in all the others before he left. Imrahil's presence had the power to lift the veil. He had been right, the young, naïve man: all was full of joy. How that simple act of offering him his body had changed the colours of his world. Few other gifts in his life had been so great.

He left soon to say goodbye to his home. It had already started to look empty, but it was still beautiful. For the next three years he did all he could but he knew that his time, their time in Middle-earth had come to an end. Valinor was calling and it was with joy that he answered the call. He no longer feared meeting his wife, on the contrary, he longed to see her, to be with her and give her the same gift that man had given him. There was so much unsolved. His sons, would they ever follow him? His heart ached for he had been right too, all is sadness, but he chose to believe that they would make their best to be happy, which ever path they took in life.

The last time he saw Imrahil was one month before leaving Middle-earth. He was standing on the upper level of Gondor, staring amazed at Nimloth's sapling which was now a radiant full grown tree. This was truly the age of Man and he felt proud for his part in it, for his other son, the king. Imrahil approached him slowly, smiling sadly. "So you leave within a month."

"Yes, I only came by to see my daughter one last time. And some friends too." Elrond turned smiling.

"Before you leave I wanted to thank you."

Elrond was surprised by Imrahil's words. He had been in debt, not the other way around. Imrahil proceeded, "It took me some time to realize it, but after my wife had died I had been all too happy to stay away from... others, until we met."

"I had devoted myself to the boys and my girl, and I knew it was time to let them go and live my own life, but it was so hard. You reminded me of who I am." Imrahil's words made Elrond smile and pat his arm. The man was almost a mirror of himself. Who would have thought? Once more the man had taught him a lesson, Elrond thought while he embraced Imrahil for the last time.

 

_Finis  
October 2004_


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